"Why sir, it must have been as bad as a hurricane!"
"No, no, not quite so bad—but it showed what a little knowledge of
philosophical arrangement could effect. We have no hurricanes in
England, Peter; but I have seen a very pretty whirlwind when I was at
Walcot Abbey."
"Indeed, sir."
"Yes; it cut four square haystacks quite round, and I lost twenty tons of hay; it twisted the iron lamp-post at the entrance just as a porpoise twists a harpoon, and took up a sow and her litter of pigs, that were about a hundred yards from the back of the house, and landed them safe over the house to the front, with the exception of the old sow putting her shoulder out."
"Indeed, sir."
"Yes, but what was strange, there were a great many rats in the hayrick, and up they went with the hay. Now, Peter, by the laws of gravitation, they naturally come down before the hay, and I was walking with my greyhound, or rather terrier, and after one coming down close to her, which she killed, it was quite ridiculous to witness her looking up in the air, and watching for the others."
"A greyhound did you say, sir, or a terrier?"
"Both, Peter; the fact is, she had been a greyhound, but breaking her foreleg against a stump, when coursing, I had the other three amputated as well, and then she made a capital terrier. She was a great favourite of mine."
"Well," observed I, "I have read something like that in Baron
Munchausen."
"Mr Simple," said the captain, turning on his elbow and looking me severely in the face, "what do you mean to imply?"